


Hermione Granger and the Very Nice Book Shop

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: Hermione has her mind set on adventure and books.  What treasures will she find in wizarding Wigtown?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97
Collections: round 12 2020





	Hermione Granger and the Very Nice Book Shop

Hermione Granger was two years past the end of her failed relationship with Ronald Weasley when she decided to go rogue, go muggle, go on a road trip.

The war had been over for a few years now, and Hermione just needed time to connect with herself — her _whole_ self — away from a world that had taken over her whole life. She decided to start her trek in April, heading north from Southend-on-Sea, through Colchester and Ipswich.

She took her time with it, lingering where she liked, and diverting from her path if something caught her attention. She went up and over and around the coast of Scotland and came back down around the other side. Hermione had heard rumours about some great hidden book shops, and she wanted to see what she could find.

She knew there was more than Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade in the wizarding world. April was coming to a close when Hermione rented a room for a week in Wigtown on the Muggle side, by the bay. It was an attic room, and she could see the bay from the balcony. Although others probably couldn't, she could also see Cruggleton Castle with her 'special' spyglass. She was interested in the castle but didn’t want to poke about with the rest of the tourists.

Instead, after she finished settling in on the first night, Hermione spent the whole next day snuggled in with a book, her balcony doors thrown wide open so she could hear the sounds of the bay.

On the second day, she meandered around town, peeking into shops and trying to be nonchalant as she worked toward accomplishing her true mission. It was late morning when she slipped through the door that most people didn't notice and into a _rare_ book shop that she had heard about.

The smell of parchment and leather bindings put her at great ease at the same time as it perked up her senses. Hermione was thrilled that she’d made it in and with so much of the day left.

She was just unbuttoning her cloak when she saw the unmistakable figure of Draco _sodding_ Malfoy, her least favourite schoolmate browsing books one row in. It was just like him to be where she wanted to be before she knew she wanted to be there.

Perhaps she had angered the Fates by feeling too relaxed after all this time on her own, having a nice adventure. Hermione stared at him for a moment.

He was in long sleeves and a waistcoat. Everything was perfectly tailored, which was so… _Malfoy_. Forest green trousers and waistcoat complemented a mint green oxford shirt. There was no sign of his cloak, though, so Hermione assumed he was not going to leave any time soon.

She couldn’t believe her luck: first great, and then terrible. Hoping that he had not noticed her, Hermione retreated from the shop. The lovely books would have to wait for tomorrow. Hermione struck out for lunch, instead.

* * *

The next day, Hermione was very relieved to be in the shop once more, no sign of Malfoy in the stacks as far as she could see. She unbuttoned her cloak and pulled a short list from her pocket. She was in the shop for about eight minutes when Malfoy appeared again.

Like yesterday, he was in trousers, long sleeves, and a waistcoat. Where he had been in Slytherin colours yesterday, he had dressed Ravenclaw today.

"Bugger," Hermione said to herself.

Unfortunately, it was not as ‘to herself’ as she had thought. Malfoy looked directly at her, recognising her almost instantly. His mouth pursed tightly and his brows furrowed. "It's not that sort of shop, Granger,” he replied flatly.

Hermione's teeth clenched. She had really been looking forward to exploring this shop. It had an outstanding reputation, and the owner was supposed to be a connoisseur. Her mind was melting that this shop might become off limits to her because of that owner. "This is your shop."

She watched Malfoy look her over slowly. Hermione began preparing for the same sort of conflict they always seemed to have at school, where he was a git and she had to fight to just live as a witch.

Draco blinked a couple of times and looked around the room with stacks and stacks of books. "It is my shop." He gave a tug on each of his shirt cuffs, straightening his sleeves. "Please, feel free to browse."

Although her adrenaline was up, Hermione felt suddenly deflated by his professional demeanour. She took a breath. Unsure of how to disengage at first, she took a look around and remembered what had brought her in. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Hermione shrugged and looked at her list. A herbology book was at the top. “Which way to Herbology?”

He gestured to an area that was under a bit of greenhouse roofing toward the back, but away from where he had emerged.

She nodded and began to work her way in that direction.

“Granger.”

Hermione paused, bracing for conflict. “Yes?”

“May I take your cloak? I imagine you’ll be here all day.”

Stunned did not begin to describe her feeling. Still, she hated shopping and trying to juggle books and personal belongings. “That would be very… nice.”

Hermione moved to shrug off her cloak, but Draco moved with speed and grace, lifting it from her shoulders. It was the closest they had ever been to each other without being at some level of combat. Hermione felt like a deer in headlights.

“I’ll have it just behind the counter until you’re ready.”

Hermione tried to say, “Thank you,” but her voice was as stuck as she was.

Malfoy turned away from her, moving just as efficiently behind the counter. He set her cloak on one of a series of hooks along the wall.

Shaking her head softly, Hermione gathered her thoughts. With a nod, she moved toward the herbology books, ready to hunt and gather.

* * *

Hermione woke early the next morning.

It was shortly after dawn, and whatever cologne Malfoy wore had invaded her dreams. Although it hadn’t been oppressive at all in his shop, she did notice it later, as she was leaving a small Indian restaurant and donning her cloak for the walk back to her bed and breakfast.

What had been a sensory surprise after supper had turned into a sensual surprise early the next morning. Hermione couldn’t remember her dream, but when she woke up, she regretted that she was by herself. She burrowed under the blankets, but it just wasn’t the same as being underneath them with someone else.

It had been a long, long time since she and Ron had split. Not that Ron had been one for cologne, of course.

When she knew she wouldn’t be falling back to sleep or having her other desires met, Hermione got up and put on the electric kettle. It was ready by the time she had finished in the loo, and she took her tea and her spyglass out to the balcony.

She did not need the spyglass to recognize Malfoy’s hair as he jogged on the beach of the bay. It seemed that she wasn’t the only one up early. Hermione sipped her Earl Grey tea and watched as he traversed one side of the bay to the other.

No wonder his waistcoats fit so well.

Hermione sighed. Finding Draco Malfoy physically appealing wasn’t new to her. What _was_ new to her was his civility, even if it was under the sheer need for professional courtesy. It made this morning’s dream and her fantasy of his bookshop all the more confusing.

She had not wanted a reminder of how single she was on this trip. Or rather, she did want to feel single. ‘Single and independent,’ though, was different from ‘single and ready to scrape her teeth against the neck of the man who had once been her school nemesis.’

Worst of all: the shop really was something out of a fantasy. She had barely made it out of the Herbology section and into the Potions books before he had interrupted her to tell her that the shop was closing in thirty minutes.

She had bought four books yesterday. She had planned to go back today.

Hermione turned on the telly for the weather forecast. Warmer weather was predicted. She would go without her cloak, then. That would leave nothing to absorb his cologne, and she would set the cloak on the balcony to air out a bit today.

Fortified by her first cuppa, Hermione showered and got ready for proper breakfast downstairs.

* * *

When she appeared in the doorway today, Malfoy was at the counter. He looked up from his ledger, and his gaze ran up and down her body. “You’ve returned.”

Today he wore a very pale pink shirt under grey waistcoat and trousers. Hermione noticed how the ensemble suited him, setting off his pale skin and grey eyes. “I’ll be here all week,” Hermione stated, as though they were both in detention and she was telling them the sentence.

His eyes dragged away from her.

She didn’t care; she had Potions books to peruse.

Generally, she was lost looking at the titles. Some were absolutely generic. Others were books she had only read about reading about.

A few times, however, Hermione felt Malfoy looking at her. Once, when he was at his ledger at the counter, his face stayed carefully blank. Later, as he came out from the storeroom with a dozen books floating behind him to be put on shelves. At that time, she noticed that he had rolled the cuffs of his shirt while he was working.

Again, as the day drew to a close, he emerged behind her thirty minutes before closing.

Hermione was kneeling, surrounded by four short stacks of books. She had her ‘definitely’ stack. She also had her two stacks of ‘maybe’s. She had one stack that she had categorized as, ‘if I just hold it for a few more minutes, I can pretend I’m getting them even though I can’t’.

The thrill of finding so many good books was making her a bit dizzy.

“I do rent books out on occasion, for a fee,” Draco said. There was a bit of invitation in his voice.

Hermione’s breath caught. She touched a journal from Cliodne which had been translated, but which also included some original text. She had always been interested in the Animagus, but she had never thought she would see an actual journal from her.

Her reaction brought an amused curl to the corner of his lip, and she thought it was the first time she had ever seen Malfoy remotely amused. Surely, she had seen him being snide, terrible and vindictive for that kind of pleasure, but this time he actually seemed to be laughing _with_ her.

Hermione licked her lower lip and scraped her teeth over it for just a moment. She had a different budgetary concern now.

Behind her, Malfoy’s breath caught.

She didn’t pay him any mind, though, as she reconsidered what was a ‘definitely,’ a ‘maybe,’ or now, a _‘rent!’_ Making her decisions, Hermione magicked what she had been considering but had ultimately decided against to the ‘to be reshelved’ desk near the front counter. Then, standing, she bent over and grabbed what would be staying with her forever.

When she turned, Malfoy was staring at where she had been on the floor with books, his face blank, gently shaking his head.

There was a definite bounce in her step as she took her new treasures to the counter. “Sorry to keep you,” Hermione said with a smile. She was so elated by all of the new prospects that she didn’t even care that she was talking to Malfoy. “I’ll have these, and I’ll think about renting.”

Malfoy processed her transaction, wrapping her books in brown paper as he had done the night before. Before he passed the books to her, he asked, “You’ll be here all week, you said?”

Hermione nodded. “I’m not even half-way through the shop yet. This is a great place. You should be very proud.”

“I am,” Malfoy replied quietly. “And you haven’t even seen my special room with my special books.”

Their eyes met.

Hermione leaned forward over the glass on the countertop. Suddenly, she was awash in his cologne. She reached for her package. “You’re saying you have books more special than Cliodne’s journal?”

He nodded; a smile full of treasures untold being revealed.

Their hands did not touch as Hermione pulled her package of books across the counter. However, he did not immediately release the books either, and there was a crackling moment of tension before he gave her what she wanted.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her new books. “Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

Malfoy gave barely a nod, but he blinked in the affirmative. Clearing his throat, he paused before saying, “I can’t show you the truly rare books during normal hours. I have to be in there with you, and while I could charm the whole shop, it is simpler to just do it off hours.”

The words “rare books” and “off hours” thrilled Hermione. “I see. We can discuss it more when I arrive tomorrow. I still have your Charms books and that whole side to go through.”

Malfoy stayed behind the counter while Hermione found her way to the door. The night air coming off the bay was fresh on her skin, but she was so distracted, she forgot to grab takeaway on the walk to her room.

* * *

Despite staying up very late with her new acquisitions, Hermione was up with the sun again. This morning, she just couldn’t get settled, so she decided to take a walk by the bay. She was looking for seashells when she felt eyes on her.

Hermione loosened her wand from where it was secured inside her sleeve. Turning, she found Malfoy jogging toward her. She wasn’t sure if she needed her wand or not. It was a perplexing moment.

He slowed a few metres from her and stopped when he was in speaking range. “Granger,” he said, not at all out of breath.

“Malfoy.”

“I don’t know how to say what I would like to say, but it needs to be said, particularly if we are going to continue to do… business together.”

“Erm… what?”

“I, that is to say… Sorry for what I said and did to you at school,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I’m really trying to get my run in now. Bye.” With a barely another glance at her, he began to run beyond her, and soon, he was out of sight.

Had he just apologised? … And then run away? 

Suddenly, Hermione felt very tired, indeed. She looked at the bits of sea glass and the one nice shell she had found. Then, she walked back to her room, toed off her shoes, and crawled into bed.

* * *

Hermione’s nap was very refreshing, and she was able to get to Malfoy’s shop within a few minutes of his unlocking the door. Once again, when he saw her, he looked her over, but she didn’t have time to spare confused thoughts for him.

There was the other side of the shop to investigate. It was a short while later when Hermione distractedly turned the corner to move to the next shelves of books that she literally bumped into Malfoy.

He looked down at her, his face a neutral mask. “Granger.”

“Sorry,” she said and took a step back.

He advanced on her half a step. “Would you care to see the rare books tonight?”

Smiling, Hermione nodded. “Yes, please.”

At her retreat, Malfoy reached up and touched a high bookshelf, moving closer to her again. He looked down at her. “I know the best chippy in town. We’ll get take away, if you like.”

She stepped back, having to turn her head bit to keep eye contact. “All right.”

The silence drew out between them. If he felt awkward after this morning, it didn’t show.

Hermione was certain that it had happened, though, as she had not been wearing pyjamas when she woke from her nap. “Are you all right, Malfoy?” Hermione turned her chin, and her brow furrowed.

“Granger, I live in Wigtown. Do you know how many people before me in my line have lived in Wigtown?”

Hermione didn’t quite understand the question. Apparently, her eyebrows expressed her confusion.

“Zero, Granger. I come from one of the oldest wizarding lines in Britain, and none of them hail from _Wigtown_. If you had told me when I was eleven years old that this is where I would be, I would have suggested to a variety of people that you needed consultation at St. Mungo’s for being cracked.”

“You _were_ a little pillock.”

“And who knows that better than you?” Malfoy asked, presumably rhetorically. He moved closer to her. “The only reason I am a free wizard is that my mother saved Harry Potter in the final battle. And I had to do a great deal of damage control after it all to even make it this far. Do you know how people in my line do damage control?”

Hermione was starting to feel out of sorts. _Galleons_ was the answer. Why was he reminding her of this?

“I had to sell so many of our assets after the war, Granger,” he said with quiet bitterness. “That was my reward for being my father’s son.”

Hermione realised where so many of the rare books in the shop came from. Books like these usually belonged to private libraries and old wizarding families, like Malfoy’s.

He closed the space between them again. “I didn’t mind after a while. It was cathartic. I’m happy here, with my shop. My home is connected, through the back. I like the bay. And then you walked in, Granger. The first person to come into this shop and actually know how many nice books are here, and it had to be _you_.”

Feeling back on steady ground, Hermione relaxed. She took a deep breath, and his cologne filled her senses.

“You in that dress, Granger. You and your denims. You and these boots and this jumper that I should be able to look into from here, but somehow, I can’t. It’s infuriating, Granger, how much I want to seduce this witch in my shop, but you are the last witch in Scotland who would let me.”

His voice was lower than she remembered it from school, but it finally had that spiteful edge she remembered. How could he talk about seducing her in that voice? She felt her ears get hot, and she touched one with her cool fingertips.

He watched her, and when the heat moved from her ears to her cheeks, his expression changed just slightly.

“Granger, are you blushing?”

Hermione stepped back; her voice caught in her throat.

He seemed to take that as an indication that the chase was on. “I’m going to give you this opportunity to indicate that you do _not_ want me to push you against the flat side of this bookshelf, Granger.”

Because Hermione had taken a step back, she could see the large, flat side of the stacks he was referring to. She looked at it, and she looked at him.

He flicked his wand at the door to the shop, and the sign in the window flipped to “On Errand”.

“Tell me that it’s not one-sided, Granger.”

“It’s not one-sided,” she said, moving one foot back as he stepped toward her body.

The next thing she knew, her back was against the hard, flat wood that held so many books she wanted to explore. Malfoy had his knee between her thighs and his hands flat on the wood above her shoulders.

“Why are you always disrupting my world, Granger?”

Hermione licked her lips. “I’m just trying to live my life, Malfoy. Not everything is about you.”

He moved his knee higher between her thighs. Hermione’s breath caught before she gave a shuddering breath.

“ _That_ is about me.” Resting his weight on his left hand, he gently ran his index finger along her neck, jaw, and finally, her mouth. “I had such lewd thoughts when you were kneeling on the floor last night, _aroused_ at the idea of renting books from me.”

Hermione pressed her chest forward, sliding her mouth away from his touch. “I don’t get on my knees for spoiled boys, Malfoy.”

He chuckled, pushing his knee down and up between her thighs. “I would get on my knees for you. You’ve always been ready to boss everyone around. Do you even know what you really want?”

His mouth was dangerously close to her ear, and his breath was hot down her neck. “Kneel, then,” she said.

Malfoy made a sound that was something like a squeal mixed with a growl, but he pulled his knee from between her thighs and then he pushed away from the wall with a deliberate grace.

The air in the room felt cold, as he moved to his knees.

Unbelieving that this was happening, Hermione pushed her hand into his hair, and he looked up at her. “Wow.”

Malfoy licked his lips. “What?”

“Draco Malfoy on his knees for me. Fine woolen trousers, waistcoat… Malfoy from top to toe, practically begging.”

His nostrils flared.

“What did it cost you to invite me to the chippy after work, Draco?”

“Everything.”

“Was it worth it?” Hermione stroked her hand back to feel the platinum strands under her fingers.

“Stunningly so.”

That made Hermione smile. Across the room, a clock chimed the hour. “I do want to see what else is here before your shop closes for the day. Be a good boy and let me look. Then, we can go to the chippy and everything.”

Draco looked as though he wanted to scream. He sat back on his heels and ran his hands through his hair where she had just pet him. Then, he stood and moved to stand behind the counter, even opening his ledger.

Hermione pushed her hands into her own hair, scrubbing her scalp before finding the place where her search had been interrupted. Now, feeling Malfoy’s eyes on her felt very different, and she was as impatient for the evening as she had been for the books.

* * *

“Where are Weasley and Potter, then?” Malfoy asked after they had their suppers delivered to them.

They were staunchly on the wizarding side of Wigtown, parts of town Hermione hadn’t seen, since she’d been so devoted to the book shop.

“Auror training.” Hermione peeled back the wrapper of her supper, plucking a chip from it. She was suddenly _very_ aware of how much energy she had expended today.

“Weasley isn’t going to come and take a swing at me, is he?”

“For this morning? Or just in general?”

Malfoy chewed a large bite of fish and gave her a sideways look. Swallowing, he said, “My refined cheekbones are one of my few remaining assets.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

Then, Hermione said, “We split up a while ago. He doesn’t realise it yet, but he wants someone more like his mother than I could ever be.”

“Less bossing, more general care-taking,” Malfoy said with a nod.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Granger,” Malfoy paused to turn, leaning to look at her and say, “Some wizards are undermined when a witch tells them to get on their knees and others are incited. I don’t expect Weasley to be of the latter sort.”

Hermione felt her neck and cheeks go hot.

“Why did you stop wearing your cloak to my shop? Did you do it to incite me?”

It was Hermione’s turn to chuckle. “Not at all. Your cologne lingered on it after the first day. I didn’t want anything, even a beautiful scent, to come between me and the books.”

“You really are just trying to live your life,” Malfoy said with an air of surprise. He had finished his supper and made quick work of magicking the wrapper away.

Hermione was finishing as well, and he took care of her wrapper, using it as an excuse to move closer to her. She smiled when his hip brushed against her. “Impossible to imagine, I know.”

He moved to stand behind her so that they were both facing the bay. “Why would my cologne get in the way of your lifelong quest for good books, Granger?” he asked into her ear.

His words were quiet, and his breath carried them down her neck.

“Because you’re a spoiled prat who just wants me to be miserable,” Hermione replied.

Malfoy’s hands found her hips. “I very much was. Did I? Back in school, did I really?” He pulled her hips back, and she felt a hard shaft behind her.

Hermione squeaked. They were in the middle of town, and while the boardwalk wasn’t packed, it wasn’t empty either. “Yes.”

“Do you believe what I told you this morning?”

His hands were advancing to the front of her pelvis, staying outside her denims.

“I don’t know.”

“Let me show you, then.”

His hands moved toward where her thighs came together.

Hermione took a frantic look around. No one had seen them, yet.

“I reckon Weasley never fucked you in his private library.”

Although Ron wasn’t the sort of book-smart she was, Hermione felt defensive of her friend-turned-ex. She pushed her hips back against Malfoy’s before turning to face him. “Draco Malfoy. I can assure you I’d rather see your library than your cock. Is that understood?”

His face was blank, but it seemed to say something more along the lines of “challenge accepted” than looking shame-faced.

“Now, speaking of, I am very ready to see what’s in your rare books collection.”

“Follow me.”

* * *

They had not exited through the main shop door when it had come time for the shop to close. Instead, Malfoy had walked her out the back, through the Herbology section, past a sort of greenhouse-courtyard, and they ended up on the wizarding side of Wigtown.

Now, Malfoy was leading her to a row house, where the door was near the gate they had emerged from before supper. The brickwork was lovely, and since she knew where to look, she could see that it would be larger than it appeared to be from the street.

Once inside, Malfoy set his keys in a tray on a table by the door. He walked her back toward where she would guess the shop connected with the other side of the street – where the main entrance was located. She could see the doorway to the courtyard, and then Draco stopped and said, “This is the door to the water closet.”

Surprised by his forward thinking, Hermione slipped in, freshened up, and then carefully washed her hands. She did not want to get chippy grease on the pages that awaited her.

When she emerged, Malfoy handed her a pair of cotton gloves. He had already put on a similar pair.

The gloves were luxurious, and for the first time, Hermione was really reminded of the standard to which Malfoy must hold things. She stole a glance around the hall, finding everything well-finished, from the mouldings to the artful pattern of the parquetry on the floor.

Once she was ready, Malfoy opened a heavy, beautifully carved, wooden door. Hermione crossed the threshold. It was almost the same feeling she had felt earlier that week, but now… everything was lavish.

Each wall was lined floor to ceiling with books. In the opposite corner of the room was another door identical to the one they had just come through. Behind the books on that same wall was a banister, and it drew Hermione’s eye up to… four more walls of books!

She could not believe her eyes.

Turning to look for Malfoy, she found him standing just inside the closed door, that self-satisfied smugness she remembered back on his face.

Hermione couldn’t blame him this time, though. This was a bibliophile’s paradise. In the middle of the room were a long settee and two chairs that she could just stay in forever, for as long as it took her to read everything.

“You approve, then?” he asked, sliding one gloved finger down her jaw.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“The original of the journal you coveted yesterday is in that corner.”

“There is only one of those on Earth, Draco, and it is not in your library!”

Using his first name stopped him, his body becoming motionless.

“So confidently incorrect. Care to wager over the matter?”

“That would be hundreds of years old. I don’t believe you have it.”

He walked to the corner he had designated, taking absolutely no time to pull the right tome from the shelf. Malfoy walked to the middle of the room, setting the book on the low table between the settee and chairs.

“If this book is not the original, I will leave you alone for the rest of the night. If it is the original, you will sit here and read while I… will _not_ leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

She knew he was bluffing. Hermione walked around to sit on the settee, then lifted the book so she could see the runes on the cover.

“I am holding Cliodne’s diary!” Hermione carefully set the book on her lap, gingerly opening the cover with her gloved hands. “This is unbelievable. How did you get this?”

“I have not always hailed from Wigtown, Hermione.”

She turned the page. Hermione was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t even read the runes that ran across page after page.

Then, she felt something tugging on her boot. Malfoy was kneeling on the floor, trying to untie her laces. These were taller boots, too, and she felt them pull against her calves as he tried to untie the knot. “What are you doing?” she asked, half-way laughing.

“These boots have been driving me mad all day.”

Hermione carefully closed the book, setting it on the table. “Did I say you are allowed to take off my boots?”

Malfoy closed his eyes.

Now, she could see heat in his cheeks.

“You lost the wager,” he replied simply. 

“And you think winning means you get to undress me.”

“I am open to suggestions.”

“No undressing. You may, however, _with_ your gloves on, resume your pre-dinner activities.”

He blinked at her, turning his head slightly in a moment of personal debate. Then, his gloved hand slid behind her calf, and he lifted it so he could duck under and between her legs, kneeling on the floor. His thumbs glided up the insides of her thighs, and he looked up at her.

Their eyes met as he slid his right hand all the way to the vee of her thighs. His left hand travelled higher, over her jumper to her breast. His thumb went beneath her breast so he could lift it away from her torso, making it look almost perfectly round.

“Are your nipples sensitive?”

“Sometimes.” Hermione moved her feet so they were closer to his knees, closing his access to her a bit. “Hands off.”

His hands immediately lifted from her body, pulling back in gloved surrender.

“I had no idea Draco Malfoy was so obedient,” Hermione said. “Very well-behaved.”

“Why do you use both my names like that?”

“You don’t like it?” Hermione asked. She was overwhelmed with everything that was happening, but if she could follow this thread, she might be able to stay on balance.

“I like it very much. You’ve only ever called me ‘Draco’ once, I think. Just now, telling me I can’t possibly have what I knew I did. It was nice to have someone else get excited about that book.”

“It’s an amazing book.”

With his hands on her knees, Draco spread them once more so he could lean forward toward her on the settee.

“You said you’re here for a week? I will never get done all I want to do with you in only four days.”

“Two more days. I laid about reading the first day. I did find your shop the second day, but I thought you were browsing when I saw you, so I backed out, literally.”

“I was wondering what that noise was.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I had known it was your shop.”

“I want you always to come, Granger.” Sliding one hand along her thigh again, he began tracing his palm up her body. “I cannot make you come often enough in the next _two_ days to undo all that I did… before.”

“Malfoy…”

“Now we’re back to Malfoy, again? Imagine, _Granger_ , you, nude on this settee, a centuries old manuscript over your bosom, me between your legs, feasting.”

“Malfoy…”

“The best chippy in town down the street.”

“It sounds like you’re begging.”

“I will beg if you want me to beg. I could easily lift you, bodily or with magic, and press you against these shelves, wrapping your legs around me, driving into you until you shatter. Just say the word.”

Silence filled the room for a moment. Hermione lifted her leg over him, moving to stand up. “What else is here? What’s behind that other door?” She turned, and designated a door in the opposite corner.

“You are not to go behind that door. It’s not safe.”

She frowned. “Cursed books?”

“Yeah. Remember when I was one of the baddies?”

Hermione remembered. It was like a cold shower remembering her visit to Malfoy Manor years ago.

Malfoy’s face turned down, and a deep sadness fell over the room. He sighed, moving from the floor to sit beside her on the settee. He rested his head in his hands a moment, before looking at her again. “I am sorry, Hermione. I’m not saying I’m perfect now, and you have every reason to… distrust me. I have been working on breaking the curses on the books, and securing the ones that are beyond my abilities for the time being.”

She looked between him and the door.

“Is it a large collection?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I’ve got it down significantly. The room is smaller than this sitting area.”

Hermione touched his shoulder. “I think there are a fair few other books in your collection to keep me occupied.”

“Only my books?”

“I’m only here for two more days.”

“Where will you go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyebrow quirked up, and he looked at her as though she were completely daft. “Are you saying that your stay is only a week, but that you have no other plans after this week?”

Hermione smiled. “I hadn’t thought to stay longer. Of course, I didn’t think there was a private library hiding behind the very nice book shop.”

He stood. “Well, you don’t even know the full extent of my library. Please, let me show you upstairs.” With a hand on her back, he led her toward the stairs.

Once she had arrived at the top of the stairs, Hermione could see more stacks behind what she had thought was a flat wall. “Draco, how many books have you got here?”

His finger traced over her shoulder, and he spared no attention to the books she was entranced by. “I sold what was valuable but less desirable to me. There were some I kept because I thought they were more valuable as reading than on a collector’s shelf. Once my finances stabilised, I had the library built and had everything brought in.”

“And you’ve been here, ever since. Enjoying your library and minding your shop.” Hermione considered him.

“I’d like to kiss you. Please, tell me that it’s not one-sided.”

Hermione gazed beyond him, looking around at a library that she could have barely _dreamed_ of visiting in her lifetime. Then, she turned her attention to Draco Malfoy, the dream of a man who had been her nightmare as a child.

Hermione reached up to put her hand behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

All of the energy that had built up between them stole her breath, and she pulled on his shoulders, drawing his body against hers.

His hands rested on her ribs. It seemed to her that Draco was shocked by her sudden aggression. His tongue slid against hers, and he met her advances readily.

She couldn't believe the moment, and Hermione pulled away from his mouth to bury her nose in his starched collar. His aroma and the smell of the library made self-discipline or caution nearly impossible.

"I would like to show you what is behind the other door up here," Draco said softly while his hands descended from her ribs to her hips.

Hermione nodded, stepping back so he could lead the way.

When they had traversed to the opposite corner of the second floor, Draco opened the door for her, letting her step into the room before him.

She was shocked to find a large, lavish bedroom. She was further shocked to see books stacked on every flat surface she could see.

Tables on either side of the bed had books. A low settee and table like the ones in the library were to one side of the room, and the table had three stacks of books on it. The small table by the door had a stack of books nearly as tall as the table itself.

"Oh... my..." Hermione said as her breath left her.

“This is my sanctum sanctorum, if you will. You’re the only one to see it since the decorators finished.” His hand traced down her back and moved to cup her arse.

Hermione paused as his fingers pressed into her. However, she soon began to move toward the sitting area, her head already turned to look at book spines. “I don’t believe you’ve never brought someone home, Malfoy.” Perching on the settee, Hermione’s fingers skimmed over the spines of the nearest stack of books.

“I have a guest room,” Draco announced from across the room, near the wardrobe.

Hermione glanced at him, finding him out of his waistcoat, shirt sleeves unbuttoned. He was rolling up his sleeves. She could see his fingers working deftly, and the muscles in his forearms flexed as well.

Catching her eye as he finished, he smirked. “I’ve got your attention again, then?” Draco reached for his tie. “I also have a suite for my mother on the first floor. My father, as you know, is _indisposed_.”

“I know,” Hermione replied quietly. She had certainly given testimony relevant to Lucius Malfoy’s sentencing.

She stood and looked around lazily. She knew it would be… rude to dig into the middle stack of books and pull out the first edition Magizoology book that tempted her. Looking at Draco again, Hermione noticed, for the first time this week, the shadow of his Dark Mark.

“I’d forgotten about that. Not… forgotten-forgotten, but… Erm, you know.”

“I conceal it at work. It is one of the cursed objects I’m working to get rid of. Twice a year I go to St. Mungo’s to have it lightened, at least.”

Hermione swallowed dryly. “May I…? Erm. That is, may I look at it?”

Draco turned his wrist to gesture her over. When she was close enough, he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arm around her so she could examine his forearm at the same angle she could look at her own.

“He’s properly gone, or then lightening wouldn’t work at all.”

Hermione hummed, reaching up to touch it, but hesitating just before making contact.

Draco lowered his voice, his mouth close to her ear. “Sometimes I think that this is my own prison sentence, which I truly deserve.”

She had reached up to move his arm a bit into the light with her left hand when a shiver went down her spine with his words.

His free arm, however, snaked around her hips, his fingertips finally slipping inside the front her trousers, into the waistband of her knickers.

Hermione’s breath caught, but he kept going.

His mouth was by her ear, his hot breath ruffling her hair. A finger slipped between her legs before pulling higher, finding her clitoris with surprising speed. “I want to make you cry out with ecstasy.” His fingers slipped lower still, spreading her labia as he found her core. “Is that allowed, Granger? Will you let me? Will you tell me how?”

Hermione moved her foot a bit to the side, opening her stance. “Let me see what you can do first.”

He made that same whining growl that he had in the shop before he knelt for her, but his free arm pulled back just long enough to move her hair away from where his mouth was. Then, Draco pulled her body against his, his arm wrapping around her ribs under her breasts.

His middle finger pushed into her as his teeth scraped her earlobe. The waistband of her trousers was stretching, chafing her back, as his wrist worked against her. Soon, two fingers were in her.

She could hardly believe it. It had been a _long_ time, and suddenly she was so filled.

Hermione reached up to squeeze her breasts but found her arms pinned to her sides by his hold of her.

“Tell me what you want.” Draco’s tongue traced the shell of her ear, and then his teeth were scraping.

“Faster.”

He went faster. Hermione found herself standing a bit on her toes as her body was lifted by his hold of her. He was nearly brushing the spot she liked, and she tried to spread her legs wider so he could find it.

“Tell me.”

She swallowed.

“Forward more, and smaller stro-!” Hermione started to say, but he was following her instructions impeccably and found where she need his fingers to be. Her body quivered a bit as she whined her pleasure into the room.

“Don’t hold back, Hermione. I told you. I want you to come.” His mouth slid down her neck to where it met her shoulder.

“My tits.” Hermione reached up to squeeze her nipples again, but his grip tightened, keeping her arms in place.

“I have been staring at these tits, Granger. Your tits are bafflingly good.” Draco slowed the rhythm of the strokes but teased over the right spot again and again.

“Let me squeeze.”

“After.”

“After?”

“First, I want to make you fucking come, Hermione. I want you to tell me just what your pussy wants, so I can give it to you.”

“More.”

“More… fingers?”

Hermione shook her head against his chest. “More… everything.” She swallowed.

“ _No one_ ever gave you an orgasm this way? Just this way?”

She suspected that he meant Ron, based on the way he was arranging his thoughts, but she didn’t really care. No. No one had ever brought her off with his fingers alone, but _she_ knew how to get there.

The angle of his wrist in her trousers changed, and it felt like both of his fingers were lost inside her, pounding up, never missing that spot. Then, his thumb was on her clit, working as a complement to his fingers.

There was a moment where her blood seemed to wash through her, and then Hermione was moaning her release to the ceiling, body bowing away from his. Hermione felt like it simultaneously lasted forever and no time at all.

Soon, though, Draco was slowing his pace, loosening his grip of her torso, letting her feet move to be flat on the floor.

When she pulled away from him, Hermione took an unsteady half step to sit in a chair beside his wardrobe. She looked at him, slightly rumpled, heat in his cheeks, his right hand, wet with her juices, held slightly away from his body.

“Don’t invoke Ronald while you… finger me.”

Draco licked his lips. “Listen, Hermione. I’m still quite spoiled, obviously, and I’m not used to being denied things I want. I find that I want you, and I will absolutely outperform… _him_ if that’s what it takes to get you to stay here beyond the end of the week.”

“Really? That’s very juvenile.”

With a snort, Draco smirked. “Yes! Bloody well tell me off, Granger.”

Hermione looked over his body, finding quite a bulge visible in his trousers. “You _would_ like that.”

“Immensely.”

“Why don’t you just get on your knees again, if you’re that desperate?”

He did.

She had missed his taking off his shoes and socks earlier, but now she could see his bare feet as he moved to his knees. “Come here,” Hermione whispered. She moved to sit in the chair properly, crossing one leg over the other.

He moved forward, balancing a moment on his clean hand as he got settled closer to the toes of her boots.

“You said I’m the first one in here?”

Draco rolled his eyes a bit and looked toward his nightstand. “I’m a messy reader.”

“So I see.”

“You don’t mind, though.”

Hermione shook her head, moving her leg so that he could reach her boot with his clean hand.

Immediately, he worked the laces, and she felt it loosen. When it was ready, he pulled it off with a gentle tug. The other boot quickly followed.

Hermione opened her trousers but stopped Draco with her foot when he leaned closer.

“Now you.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” Draco warned as his hands moved to open his trousers. He hesitated a moment but proceeded as she watched. Unrestrained by his trousers, his cock fell forward with a heavy bounce.

Hermione watched him for a moment. “No touching.”

Then, she slid her right hand into her knickers, leaned her head against the wall behind the chair, watching him under hooded eyes. _Finally_ she squeezed her nipples, one at a time, with her left hand. Her clit was very ready after his treatment, and it took just gentle swirls with her thumb while she worked her nipples for Hermione to build a quieter, but equally as gratifying climax as Draco had brought her.

She licked her lips when her body relaxed in the chair again. Hermione smiled, clearly drawing a line in the sand: She didn’t need someone to make her come.

Draco was beyond aroused, and a large clear drip was clinging to the end of his cock.

“Take your shirt off, Draco.”

His fingers worked quickly but mechanically through the buttons. The only sign of his haste was as the shirt was whipped away with a flick of his arm behind his back.

“Very fit. Always so fit.”

“Did you like me in school, Hermione?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That answer came too fast to be true.”

“It was a boarding school. Liking a person had nothing to do with _liking_ a person.”

Draco’s reply came from his cock, primarily, which flexed up toward his stomach.

“Have something to prove, Draco?” Hermione stood and looked down at him.

“I could prove my cock is just slightly too big for your cunt, Granger.” 

Hermione reached for and gripped some of his hair, urging his head back slightly.

“Rude.”

“I think it will feel splendid with you speared on it, so tight. I think you’ll love it.”

“Perhaps.”

“I will do whatever it takes so you love my cock.”

Hermione smiled and released her hold. Then, she smoothed his hair down. With one hand on his shoulder for balance, she pulled off one sock and then the other.

Stepping away from him, toward the bed, her jumper came over her head and was dropped onto the floor. Hermione undid the front clasp of her bra, shrugging out of it so it dropped to the floor by the bed just as she moved to sit, then lay in the bed with her feet near the side.

Draco watched the whole thing, still kneeling before the empty chair.

Once Hermione settled on her back, she reached out, and crooked a finger at him.

He was up in two steps, and his trousers hit the floor, covering her jumper. When he was standing by the bed, he slid one hand up her leg, moving to grab the waist of her trousers, and peeling the snug fabric down her legs.

Both in their birthday suits, Draco crawled over her, covering her body with his. His hand moved up and over her breast for the first time, before coming to rest on the bed by her ear, his weight balanced on his elbow.

The other hand did the same thing. “Stay in Wigtown and read my library.”

“I couldn’t possibly read all the books in your library.”

“You could try, though.”

Hermione hummed and smiled. She moved her legs so that they rested outside of his knees, and she watched as Draco looked between their bodies.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, his hips lowering toward their goal.

She hummed and smiled wider, even nodding. Hermione tilted her chin to the side, and their lips met for only an instant before the kiss was deepened. They snogged for a long time, until his cock brushed her thigh, reminding them.

Hermione reached for it, guiding and aligning it. Anticipation shortened her breath. Then, he was in her.

Slowly at first, Draco began the snog again. His tongue and cock moved in the same slow pace. He even moved one hand to her hip when she tried to pick up the pace.

“Is it splendid?”

“Ungh—yeah, Draco. Your cock is very good. Go faster.”

He did.

Hermione gripped his shoulder. “Faster, Draco.”

Draco moved faster.

“Deeper, too. Or do you need your fingers to make me come?” Hermione felt the duvet bunch in his fists by her head as he moved fast and deep, again and again. “Oh, yes.” On his shoulder, her fingers began to clench, and her nails dug in.

Draco hissed and moved to lick her neck, jaw, and ear. “You want to come, Granger. You want to come for me.”

“Close.”

“Me, too.”

Hermione moved her legs to wrap around him.

Draco groaned, pushing away from her body to grab her ankles. “No. I’m not finishing until you do.” He moved her feet to his shoulders, pausing to get the leverage he needed. “Hermione,” Draco said as he started again. Slow and deep at first, but he moved faster as they found that rhythm again.

The new position changed the angle and put just enough pressure on her clit to push her closer to orgasm. “Harder,” Hermione said, her hands moving to her breasts.

Draco complied, sliding one hand below her hip to position her perfectly. Hermione saw stars, gasping, and screwed her eyes shut tight.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” Draco slowly speared into her. Then, leaning on one arm, he reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers, pinning that hand to the bed. Leaning on that arm, he repeated the action.

Hermione looked up at him.

His cheeks and lips were dark pink, and a bead of sweat had formed at his hairline. His grey eyes held her attention, but his brows showed his determination. Feeling him push their hands into the mattress, Hermione gave a shuddering exhale as he began again.

When he pushed in again, his hips gave a very gratifying twist into hers. Hermione moaned.

“Give it to me,” Draco whispered, focusing on repeating the manoeuvre again.

She nodded, blinking slowly as his pace slowly came back. “Draco-oh.”

“Say it again.”

Hermione tried to move her hips up for more.

He gave her what she wanted.

“Dra-coh!” Hermione squealed as her joy finally broke. Her head pressed back into the pillow, and her body arched.

He began taking his own pleasure then, pushing hard and fast until his body, too, was bowed, and his head thrown back.

Slowly, their voices quieted, and only the sound of heavy breathing filled the room.

Sitting back on his heels, Draco moved to kneel between Hermione’s thighs, her feet slipping back down to the bed. He brushed his hair back from his face. He took a deep breath, shaking his head gently, and whispered her name.

Hermione, keenly aware of what was happening between her legs, bent her knee, moving to close her legs. A loud squelching made her wince.

“That was a hell of a shag,” Draco smiled, moving to sit where her leg had just been. “I could get used to shags like that.”

Giving him a sidelong look, Hermione took a deep breath. “Now you’re being silly.”

“Why not, then?”

Hermione sat up. “Well, you don’t like me, remember.”

“What? You mean from school? That was ages ago. I mean, you said you don’t like me, but I never said –”

“Draco… Be serious.” Hermione reached toward the head of the bed and pulled a pillow in front of her bare chest.

“I’m very serious. I have a spare room. I have the library. You can Apparate to work.”

“I’m not working at the moment.”

“What are you doing for Galleons?” Draco asked, and then quickly answered his own question. “The hero’s stipend. You do know where those funds come from, don’t you?”

Hermione did. The fund was filled by the not-as-bad baddies from the war.

“Listen. I send money to the fund every month. The fund pays you. You pay me for books. If you keep it up, I’m just paying myself to give you books. _Alternatively_ , you stay in my guest room for a bit, you read books you have only ever dreamt of getting your hands on, you buy me dinner from the chippy and we shag once in a while…”

“Once in a while,” Hermione parroted, knowing full well that a young wizard like Draco would not be satisfied by _once in a while_.

“Did you not just have a variety of nice times?” Draco asked with confidence, but his body turned away from her, and he delicately swept his finger over the top of her shin.

“I did have a nice time. And it is amusing to boss you about a bit.”

“Amusing,” Draco parroted back before he reached for the pillow.

She didn’t give it up though, and he ended up pulling her closer to him. Hermione laughed.

Draco swept a bit of hair behind her ear. “Look around. Do you really want anything beyond a cosy room with too many books and someone who can make you squeal?”

Hermione _did_ look around. It was lovely in here. She remembered the Magizoology book she’d wanted to grab. “House Elves?”

He shook his head. “None. We freed the ones we had. Some stayed with my mother. Some moved on.”

Hermione hummed. “Where will I park my car?”

“There’s parking in front of the shop. I can make sure you don’t get a ticket.”

Hermione hummed again.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“It is a ‘perhaps’. I need to see the guest room, I suppose.”

Draco nearly leapt of the bed. He opened his wardrobe, pulling out a set of pyjamas and pulled them on. Then he got another sleep shirt for her.

As she caught it, Hermione smiled. “Does the guest room adjoin the library, as well?” She pulled the shirt over her head and began to crawl off the bed.

“No. However, there is a lovely little bit of the greenhouse you simply _must_ walk through between the guest room and the library. I find it delightful, personally.”

“Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, prompter, for the great prompt!
> 
> Thank you, amazing mod, for running and coordinating the fest and fabulous prompts.
> 
> Thank you, amazing beta-reader, alpha-reader, muse, and cheerleader.


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